Another opening, another show. I hadn’t made plans for this year and Mitchell’s in Chicago so I had nowhere to go and noone to gab with on Golden Globes night. I was not happy. So I made an emergency call to my pals Jamie and Lindsay. They graciously allowed me to barge in on their night, even with Jamie’s awful chest cold, and Huck (their gorgeous blonde haired boy) sleeping soundly in the other room, to come over, invade their house, and watch the show. 3 hours of glittering entertainment, stretched out over a 6 hour period. This puppy was long. But we were all doing okay. Cuddled up on their comfy brown couch, munching on one of the best burgers I’ve had since I can remember, and occasionally defying time as we chatted and Tivo-ed at our leisure.

I’ve got to get me one of those Tivo things. We stopped, gabbed, smoked, laughed, complained, haggled, and then resumed the show as if nothing had ever happed. What WILL they think of next?

Jamie predicted every single winner. An odd talent to be sure, but one that I can certainly verify.

Here’s what I saw:



*The biggies were noticeably absent. No Paul Newman, no Joanne Woodward, no Judy Dench. I wasn’t happy about that at all.

*Joan Rivers asked Emma Thompson how her ex husband Colin Firth was doing.

*I love full figured gals. Love them. However, Mariah Carrey now looks like Walking Floor Art. She’s too old to dress like a hoochie Mama, and too full figured for the Liberace glitz half covering her heaving bosom. Someone stop her. Please.

*Speaking of bosoms, what’s up Droopy Drew?

*Steve Carrel is my new boyfriend. He prepared a speech and acted as if his wife wrote it for him. He thanked his wife about 5 times, and each time it got more hilarious. Carrel is refreshing in a land that’s based on failed improvisational humor. He’s a genius. She’s a lucky woman.

*I love it when the monitor’s don’t work. Put movie stars in front of a camera with no lines to say, and they become drooling, pooping, morons.

*Speaking of which, Queen Latifah looked terrific. For some reason though, with her in that couture ensemble, her hair slicked back, pulled, and 14 pieces attached, and 63 pounds of make up and concealer on her, it’s hard for her to still have “Street Cred”. When she opened the show, she told us all it was “..time to get down.” No it’s not, Queen. It’s really not that time at all.

*Who put Clint Eastwood in a purple, velvet tuxedo? I want names. And addresses.

*Is “Lost” really that good? I’m actually asking, I’ve never seen it. Is it?

*I’m thrilled that Jauquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon collected statues. That made me happy and they made lovely speeches. I wish Reese would have worn something else besides Reynolds Wrap, but that could just be me.

*The Anthony Hopkins Tribute could have been longer. There’s never enough of him.

*No Dead People Montage? Didn’t people die this year? Hello?!

*Brokeback Mountain swept the awards. I knew it would. (So did Jamie). Not surprised. Go Gays.

*There’s something wrong with Melanie Griffith. I’m not kidding. There’s something terribly wrong with her.

*I liked the Joan Rivers Mask Joan Rivers was wearing. It almost looked real.

*Geena Davis looked absolutely fantastic. Loved the dress. Loved the hair. Love her acting. A great night for her. I haven’t seen her show, but I’m a fan of hers and have been for a while. She’s a good ole fashioned star. And the fake story about the kid tugging at the hem of dress? Classic.

*Its always a pleasure to see Shirley McLain. I loved seeing how happy she was for Reese and Joaquin. Are they friends of hers? Odd. Maybe she was just loaded.

*Catherine Denuve is a wonder.

*Candice Bergen is aging gracefully. I’m surprised no one wrote her a ticket before entering the room. That’s got to be some kind of felony in Hollywood. I was sad she didn’t win.

*John Travolta kissed Joaquin Phoenix. I’m sorry, but that was hot.

*Sarah Jessica Parker (who looked stunning) and Mathew Broderick are getting cuter and cuter. It’s a tad sickening.

*Johnny Depp looked half way human. He was dressed in a sort black suit with a blood red shirt and a blood red hankie. His hair was tousled, and not in a Russel-Crowe-I’ve-had-enough-of-the-establishment-and-I’m-aging-so-I-stuck-my-head-under-the-sink sort of way. But cute and hip and a bit nasty. He’s such a great actor and such a real, honest bohemian, I usually forgive him anything.

*Speaking of Russell Crowe, look, I know you’re tough, and I know you like to pounce on things with your fists, and I know you have a short fuse when it comes to phones and guys at the front desks of Hotels, but when the camera turns on you, and you know its’ on you, don’t run your fingers through your hair and do a combination hair toss/toothy smile to get that “Rough Look”. It’s as phony as you are.

*I want to punch Renee Zelwegger right in the lips. At close range.

*I loved that Phillip Seymour Hoffman won his award, although my heart broke a little for David Strathairn. He’s one of those stellar actors who, for years, has been giving consistently great performances and rarely gets recognized. He’s a literal magician when it comes to his craft and he does it without flair or false bravado. He’s a quiet, gorgeous presence that always illuminates a role and always adds to the project. I hope this at least pushes him to the head of the line for an Oscar bid. At the very least, he deserves that for all the years of miraculous performances he’s given us. He was also very gracious when he lost. That broke my heart a little more.

*Terri Hatcher needs a good breakfast. Something with syrup in it.

*I loved watching Sandra Oh getting lost on her way up to the stage. Wonderful, wonderful actress in a great show. Very happy for her. And she looked GREAT!

*Oh Ms Moore? Ms Mandy Moore? You know the tall gay guy with the hot comb and the hairspray, tapping his size 10 pump in the corner of your hotel room? Yeah. He’s your hairdresser. Please use him.

*I love me some country stars. I love me some Dolly, some Reba, some Bonnie, some Hank, I love me some country stars. This is not the CMA’s, Mr. Tim McGraw. Please take off your big, black, serving plate sized hat.

*Lindsay Jones is right. Pierce Brosnan IS a good looking guy.



Okay. Everything was going along swimmingly. We were laughing, giggling, having a good time, weeping a bit, and generally enjoying the show. And then, Felicity Huffman won. I was fine. I was fine up until that very moment. And then everything came rushing back like someone opened a gate. I relived the audition, the phone call, the audition again, the phone call twice, and then……well, the audition. As I’ve said before, Duncan couldn’t have been kinder to me, and I completely understood why it happened the way it happened. Hollywood is like any business. It’s the guy who can draw in the most clients that usually gets the job. Plus, Huffman’s’ a hell of an actress. But as I sat there, with my hands to my face, my breath caught in my throat, it was, I admit, hard to take. I felt my head get a little warm, and my face start to flush a bit. Jamie’s hand rubbed my back, and she asked if I was okay. I kind of wasn’t. I listened to Huffman’s speech, which was great, and I went outside to smoke. And try not to ram my head against a random rock.

I walked out on the porch, and I started to tear up, and then Lindsay followed me outside in the cold as a small brisk breeze blew through us.

“Am I nuts Linz? Do you think I’m nuts? Am I crazy for doing this? Honestly. I want you to answer me honestly. I trust you.”

He looked me straight in the eye, and without hesitation, he rammed me with his words:

“You’re not nuts, Alex. You’re not. You’re’ fine. And who knows? Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be this time. That doesn’t mean it’s not going to happen. It doesn’t mean it’s never going to happen. It WILL happen, I know it will. Someday, when you get that award, you’re going to remember this night and it’ll make for a great story.”

I looked at him and blew my smoke away.

“Really?”

He looked at me again with those big, brown eyes.

“Yeah. Really.”

Lindsay stopped me from crying.

I walked in the house where Jamie was curled up on the couch barely awake and hacking like Elaine Stritch.

“I love your husband.” I said in all honesty.

“Yeah. He’s good.” She agreed smiling.

“He’s a good man, Jamie. I’m not kidding. He’s a real good man.”




This was a strange awards show for me. I had a fabulous time, with some fabulous people, and probably more than that, I let go of some stuff. I feel lucky to have these kinds of people I have in my life. I’m ready for the Oscars, as I’m sure Ms. Huffman is as well.

Mommy?